Madness In Maggody

"I used it on everything, Alex. You'd better get an ax and start chopping down the trees. Get a bulldozer and level all the gardens. And don't think about the vegetable soup we had last night. I thought the organophosphates gave it a nice flavor."

I brushed past him and grabbed the ladder to steady it. Ignoring his gurgle of surprise, I called, "Ivy, it's Arly Hanks. I came by to ask you all a few questions."

She came down the ladder, her expression supremely unruffled, and gave me a smile. "Howdy, Arly. I was inspecting the tree for damage from that late frost last spring. Looks okay to me. Alex, take the ladder back to the barn and then set the sprinkler on the yellow squash. Go on, take the ladder to the barn."

He hesitated, regarding her with a flat expression, then nodded to me, took the ladder, and trudged up the slope. Ivy ran her fingers through her hair, sighed, and said, "He'll leave the ladder in the middle of the yard and set the sprinkler on the tomatoes." She frowned. "But I shouldn't underestimate him. Might be dangerous one of these days."

"I happened to overhear some of the conversation," I said cautiously. "You're using pesticides now?"

"I got tired of catering to the insect world. The stuff's used very commonly, and all you have to do is wash the produce before you eat it. Alex is still having flashbacks to the sixties, I'm afraid. He thinks organic is groovy. He thinks ladybugs are the hottest thing since the Beatles."

"I wanted to ask you about Monday evening," I said. "I guess you heard about the pins and so forth?"

She started for the house, forcing me to trail after her. "I heard about Lillith Smew, too. I don't reckon I ever met her, but it's a damn shame."

"I'm talking to everyone who was in the SuperSaver Monday evening," I said to her back. "Someone said you were there for a time, Ivy. Did you see anyone acting suspiciously-returning items to the display, for instance, or looking worried about being observed?"

She glanced over her shoulder but continued walking briskly up the slope. "Can't say I did. I just went to compare prices, then left when I realized that every last one of them was a damn sight less than what we can sell for."

"When did the pesticide package come?"

"Monday morning. I was way down at the end of the orchard, and Alex happened to have gone to the house for a minute. He was so excited about his box of ladybugs that he didn't stop to look at the return address. His box came the next morning, and he spent the day sprinkling the orange polka-dotted things on what's left of the late-summer crop. He was surprised when they bellied-up, but I wasn't. The pesticide worked real well."

We'd reached the gate, but I was seriously out of breath and my shirt was glued to my back. "Wait a minute," I said. "One more question, Ivy. Do you keep syrup of ipecac in the house?"

I finally had her attention. She turned back, scratching her chin with dirt-caked fingernails, and said, "I have a bottle in the medicine cabinet. I also have pins in the sewing box. I was real perturbed when the SuperSaver opened, and real relieved when it was closed down. I've got no fondness for Mayor Jim Bob Buchanon or his self-righteous wife, and I'd just as soon take a tablespoon of ipecac as give either of them the time of day. The brand of organophosphates I'm using is deadly in small doses, and the container's been opened. Any more questions, Arly?"

"That pretty well covers it," I said, blinking at her. "Anything you'd like to add?"

"I hope you nail the person who sabotaged the supermarket. When you find out who it is, let me know so I can send him a bushel of apples."

She stepped over the ladder in the yard and went through the back door into the house. Alex and Jackie had vanished, so there was nothing for me to do but get in my car and leave. All the exertion had left my mouth dry, so I headed for the Dairee Dee-Lishus for a cherry limeade and a conversation.

"This is out-and-out crazy," Ruby Bee whispered. "What's more, the stink is making me sick to my stomach. It's worse here than it was in the picnic pavilion."

"Stakeouts aren't supposed to be Tupperware parties," Estelle whispered back, not real pleased with the overpowering miasma of rotting garbage and stale whiskey emanating from the rusty green dumpster. "Just because some private eye on television sits in his car for two seconds and along comes the suspect doesn't mean that's what really happens. If you ain't interested in staking out this rude woman, then you can run along home and watch television by yourself."

Ruby Bee turned up her nose at a moldy orange peel covered with flies and a thread of little black ants. "We don't even know if she's in there. What if she goes to work every day and comes home after dark? We're not even going to see her face when she drives up and goes into her apartment."

A yellow jacket zoomed down on a lopsided aluminum soda can. Estelle scooted back as far as she could without risking being visible from the upstairs apartment, then said, "We agreed that her name didn't ring a bell and we were going to have to look at her to figure out how she fits into all this."

"It seems to me we could have found a nicer place to watch from," Ruby Bee said rebelliously. "We could have parked the car across the highway and sat there, you know."

"And not had a decent look at the woman. Unless your eyesight's improved mightily, you wouldn't be able to tell if it was a him or a her, much less what he or she looked like."

"And you don't wear reading glasses when you think I'm not looking?"

"So do you. That doctor's appointment last week wasn't with a baby doctor, was it? You had to get your prescription checked, Miss Twenty-Twenty, My Eye!"

Ruby Bee snorted, but she didn't say anything because Estelle was right and she wasn't about to say so. The yellow jackets were coming down by the dozens, buzzing every which way and threatening to fly in her hair. She flapped at them as she moved back and tried to get comfortable on the gravel.

I was driving toward the Dairee Dee-Lishus when a sheriff's department vehicle came careening up the highway, the blue lights flashing and the siren going full blast. I was still thinking about it when a second car did the same, followed by a third, with the sheriff himself at the wheel.

Never one to pass up a promising social occasion, I put the pedal to the metal, so to speak. They'd turned onto a back road and the dust was blinding as I bounced along behind them. I prudently slowed down, and when I came around the curve, they were already stopped in front of the Lambertino house.

The deputies were crouched behind the cars, with.38s and sawedoff shotguns pointed at the house.

Harve pulled out a bullhorn and flipped the switch. His voice boomed as he said, "Testing, one, two, three. Okay, buddy boy, we know you're in there. Come out with your hands up and nobody'll get hurt."

I parked behind the last car and ran to Harve's side. "What the holy hell is going on?"

"We got us a-" He realized he was still broadcasting to the next county and lowered the bullhorn. "We got us a rapist in there, according to an anonymous report."

"In Joyce's house? A rapist? An anonymous report?" I realized I was on the disjointed side, but I couldn't help it.

"The call could have been from the Lambertino woman. According to the dispatcher, the caller just said there was a rapist breaking in and then slammed down the phone. We're presuming she was interrupted. The line's been busy ever since, so it's probably off the hook."

"Are the children in there?"